


Five Times Johnlock Tried to Spice Up Their Sex Life and One Time They Went With Being Middle Aged Men Instead

by volvi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bondage, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Established Relationship, Feeding, M/M, Sex Toys, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volvi/pseuds/volvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fearing for their relationship to become boring, Sherlock tries his best to add some spice to his and John's sex life. Unfortunately this doesn't go exactly as planned, but God knows he keeps on trying!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Handcuffed

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something silly I had in mind for quite some time, so it felt like a necessity to actually write it down. My aim is to update every Sunday, so it will take some weeks until it's completed. I hope you enjoy reading it~ :)

To be honest, John was starting to get a bit uncomfortable at Sherlock’s persistent attempts to spice up their sex life. They hadn’t even been together for all that long, so there was really no need to start experimenting just yet. He had tried to tell the detective this, but it didn’t seem to go through. John hadn’t admitted this before, but he was actually quite vanilla in bed. He liked what every other bloke liked; blow jobs, hand jobs, lots of heated snogging and every once in a while he could even go for some fingering. (Of course that was on their everyday menu when it came to him doing it to Sherlock, it was something else entirely to have his partners fingers up _his_ arse though. That only happened when alcohol or a specifically thrilling case was involved, let’s not go further into that last part.) He couldn’t help but to come up with lame excuses every time Sherlock brought it up. This evening was just like it. They sat together on the sofa, John’s hand on Sherlock’s head, lazily combing through his curls.

“We could try handcuffs.” John frowned. “Not on you of course, I know you aren’t particularly fond of being tied up.” John stopped caressing Sherlock’s head and looked down on his lover sceptically. “Maybe you would like it. Actually I’m rather certain that you would, we both now you wish to be the one in control.” John let that pass, like if _he_ was the control freak in this relationship! “That, or we could go for some other bonding. Shibari seem to be right up our alley, come to think of it.”

“Or we could just enjoy this. Us. Being together, just you and I.” Once again John let his fingers comb through those thick ebony curls. He almost though he’d won this time, that until Sherlock abruptly sat up and nearly knocked him at the same time.

“Why are you so afraid of trying new things? I won’t break!”

“Why do we have to talk about this Sherlock? How come we can’t just…”

“How will we keep things from getting boring, if all you do is turn me down every time I come up with something new?” Sherlock wasn’t looking at John any longer. Instead his eyes were fixed at a spot on the wall, just beneath those holes that he had shot so many years ago.

“So that what this is about.” John straightened his back and took a deep breath (in through the mouth, 1, 2, 3, 4, and out through the nose, 1, 2, 3, 4). If that’s what Sherlock wanted then John would have to man up. “We’ll do that.” He could feel Sherlock observing him. “I won’t hurt you, I just won’t, but tie you down seem safe enough.” With that, the conversation was over. John stood up and walked away in order to put the kettle on. He was suddenly feeling very old and somewhere in his subconscious the feeling of not being enough was once again starting to sprout. If only he wasn’t this… dull.

* * *

 

Two days had passed since they talked about the bonding. John had almost started to think it was all to be forgotten until he was met by an eager detective just when he had gotten inside the flat after a day at work. Sherlock was dressed in nothing but his pyjamas and the maroon coloured robe and in his hand he was clutching a pair of handcuffs. Not the furry, pink kind that could be found at the sex shops. No, this seemed to be the real deal. John didn’t know if this was for better or for worse, but he decided to think of it as something positive. Tying Sherlock to the bed with a pair of cheap, pink cuffs that was made to get out of if easily didn’t seem to suit them at all. Sherlock swung the cuffs before him while closing up on his partner.

“I thought of locking myself up before you got back, but decided that you probably wanted to do that part as well.” Sherlock had now given the cuffs to John, they were light and although he used them many times before on cases, this was different.

“You didn’t get the ones with fur then.” At that Sherlock frowned. Apparently the small joke hadn’t gotten through. John backed away to remove his coat and scarf. “Might I at least have a cuppa before we do this? I’ve just got back from work.”

“As if that’s ever stopped us.” Sherlock muttered. John leaned in and gave his lover a small peck on the cheek.

“One hour, love.” He went into the kitchen.

* * *

 

“Is that okay?”

“Yes I’m fine, stop fussing.”

“I just want this to be nice for you.”

“I said I’m fine.” Sherlock tested his braces, they were tight to his wrists, keeping him stuck to the headboard. He looked up at John and was surprised of what he saw. The doctor had seemed rather adverse of it all at first, but it looked as if things were starting to grow on him. Once again Sherlock tugged at the restraints and just as he had deduced, something lightened in John’s eyes.

“Stop that.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow and did it again. “I said stop it.” John’s voice had dropped half a scale and suddenly there was that military bearing of his that always made Sherlock shiver with anticipation. He couldn’t help but to do it once again, this time more forcefully than before. “Sherlock.” John was still talking with that deep baritone, but this time he took a grip of Sherlock’s jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You are going to be still or I’ll release you.”

“Make me.” Sherlock challenged. John’s response was to sit down on top of his thighs, keeping him firmly in place. He then started to cup himself, all while looking at the man beneath him. Both of them were still wearing their pants and Sherlock could see that the lines of John’s erection was starting to show. Slowly the cupping turned into rubbing. John smiled and leaned down and kissed him passionately. He then lifted his weight away from Sherlock and sorted himself so that he was kneeling on the bed beside him instead. “To far away!” Sherlock moaned. John just chuckled and started to work on Sherlock’s pants. He lifted his bum to help and soon they were to join the floor with the rest of their clothing.

“Look at you.” John was devouring him with his eyes. He then reached down to work on himself, this time underneath his briefs. “How could this ever be boring.” John flung his head forward and increased the speed. Sherlock enjoyed the view before him; his doctor all tense, the muscles on his thighs slightly trembling from the strain of keeping him in an upright position. Sherlock was just about to try to move closer when John suddenly pushed down his pants mid-thigh, the other hand still on himself. “Fuck!” John was now tugging quite furiously. Their eyes met and John ejaculated. He sat down on the bed, breathing heavily, still looking at Sherlock.

“Well, that escalated quickly.” Sherlock smirked. John smiled and reached down and kissed him.

“I’m going to untie you now. Thanks for giving me such a view.” He kissed him once again and got out of his pants completely before reaching out for the cuffs. “Right, we need keys for these, where did you put them?”

“You have them.”

“No I don’t. You never gave them to me, where are they?”

“No, you must have them!” Things got quiet.

“Sherlock… Did you just told me to lock you up without having the keys to begin with?”

“What’s it to you, you was once a soldier, you should be able to figure it out with or without them!”

“We didn’t exactly pick locks in the army Sherlock!” John was now looking furiously at the man beneath him. Why could the detective never learn to think about the damn consequences of his actions! A part of John just wanted to leave him there, tied up and naked, just to learn him a lesson, but of course that wasn’t happening.

“So what are you supposed to do?”

“ _I_ do? What will _I_ do? This is really not my problem! It was you who wanted this, remember? I never asked for it!”

“Well, since you were the one getting off at least you could do me the curtesy of untying me.” Sherlock didn’t seem to be the least upset. Probably because he knew that – regardless John’s disapproval – he would be free in no time. “Since my hands are tied you will have to do it by yourself, there are hairpins in the bathroom cabinet that could prove useful.”

“Why do we have hairpins anyway?” Sherlock answered this with a sour look.

* * *

 

27 minutes later and Sherlock was still stuck to the headboard.

“You have to turn it the other way around.”

“I’m trying!”

“No, no, not like that! Be gentle! Is this how you do surgeries as well?” John sighted heavily.

“I might as well leave you here you know, so maybe you could consider being nice if that’s not what you want.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” John continued his lock-picking. “Other way!”

“Shut up!” John threw the fifth broken pin on the bed. “I can’t do this, we’ll have to break them open.”

“That won’t work, they’re made to endure any sort of abuse.”

“So what will we do then? Call Greg and make him come with a set of keys?” There was no chance in hell that would ever happen, over his dead body that somebody would ever get to know of this.

“There’s no need to bother with Lestrade, just go fetch Mrs Hudson, she’ll get them open in no time.”

“Seriously? Mrs Hudson? ‘Hi Mrs H, Sherlock and I just got in a bit of a situation, would you please mind come and get him out of this handcuffs? He’s in _my bed all fucking naked with my semen on the fucking sheets!_ ’” John hissed.

“Why are you being such a prude?”

“I’m not a prude! I just think we should keep our sex life to ourselves!”

“Well, then you will have to start making some progress with the locks.” Sherlock’s voice had now turned poisonous and he was glaring at him accusingly.

“Have it your way then.” John spat and got out of the bed and hastily put on a pair of pants, jeans and a shirt. He tossed the blanket over the other man and shuffled the rest of their clothes underneath the bed with his foot so that they were out of sight. “You should be happy if we ever have sex again.”

“As if!” Sherlock shouted after him.

* * *

 

“Oh Sherlock, the mess you’ve made!” Mrs Hudson sighed, but it was easy to spot the twinkle in her eyes that she’d gotten as soon as John had told her he was to be found in John’s bedroom. (It had been the most awkward conversation John had ever had, it was something that made him wish to be able to get a mind palace of his own just in order to delete that specific incident.) She looked at the broken pins before her and then at the handcuffs. “It’s not decent, calling me for such a thing. And at my age too.” The twinkle was still there and John wondered if he’d actually seen a blink coming his way. “Always use scarfs, it makes it so much easier for both of you dears.” The least thing John wished for was a lecture in how to have bondage sex by Mrs Hudson, he pinched the bridge of his nose and wished to be swallowed by the floor beneath him.

The next time he looked up the cuffs were unlocked and Sherlock was rubbing his wrists, marked red from the braces. “You should put some liniment on that.” Mrs Hudson noted. “Or maybe you should let you doctor do it for you.” There was definitely a blink this time. “I think it’s time for a cup of tea. Please be careful now, boys. And John, think about the scarves next time. It would give Sherlock a little bit of extra space as well.” John couldn’t look at her when she left the room and when he was met by Sherlock’s smug smile a moment later he thought he was going to burst.

“You! We are not talking about this! This never happened! You utter git!”

“What have I done?”

“Don’t act innocent, we both now it doesn’t suit you.”

“Relax, we probably gave Mrs Hudson the time of her life.” Sherlock got up, still all smug, and leaned in to give his doctor a kiss.

“No. That won’t happen.” John backed off and looked at Sherlock with aversion. “Get dressed and make the bed. _You_ are getting us dinner tonight, and you _will_ be eating it!”

“Yes sir.” Sherlock teased.

“Shut it!” And with that, John slammed the door closed. Maybe this was a sign that they shouldn’t really experiment after all…

_To be continued~_


	2. Toyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock buys some sex toys for him and John, which doesn't turn out exactly as planned...

Weeks had gone by since the handcuff-incident. John had finally begun reaching the state of acceptance about it all; Mrs Hudson definitely knew more than he would’ve liked about their sex life, but so what? She was a former exotic dancer, so a bit of bondage couldn’t be that chocking. (Although the thought that it had been her who picked the locks when Sherlock had lost the keys for the cuffs still made John cringe. As far as he was concerned that wasn’t something he would ever accept wholeheartedly. Knowing about them being together was one thing, but actually seeing Sherlock tied up to his bed was something entirely different.) Since that episode Sherlock had even stopped pestering him about the whole ‘let’s spice up our sex life’ thing that he’d had going on earlier. Of course John hadn’t kept his promise about them not having sex, but at least there hadn’t been any weird, kinky stuff, just their plain vanilla standard. It wasn’t until that day in November, when he had gotten back from some grocery shopping just to find a smorgasbord of sex toys on their coffee table, which everything came back to him. So much for thinking they had everything they ever wished for, god dammit!

John walked towards the table to look at selection of toys before him. There were three cock-rings and two dildos, all different sizes and colours. (Had Sherlock seriously bought a blue plastic dildo, thinking they would actually come to use? Was he out of his mind?!) John could also find a huge amount of different flavoured lubes and condoms (banana, chocolate and strawberry among others). John had just picked up a set of anal beads when he realised that in order to find all these things Sherlock must’ve actually left the flat to go to a store to buy them. For money, _their_ money.  “Sherlock!” He turned around and found the detective at the kitchen table, looking on something through his microscope.

“Mm.”

“Sherlock, why have you stashed up on sex toys? Are they for a case?” Please, _please_ let that be it!

“Of course not, I bought them today for us. Do not fret, I didn’t get any bondage supplies.”

“Why did you decide to spend our money on this?” John tightened his hands, the groceries was now all forgotten in their shopping bags by the door.

“John, _please_. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Sherlock was now looking at him.

“Yeah, actually, you might do just that. I would very much like to know how come you are perfectly capable of spending our money on these things that we have no need of what so ever, when you won’t as much as consider getting the goddamn milk no matter how many times I ask you to!”

“It was supposed to be a gift, so you could just say thank you, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, of course, how stupid of me! Thanks so much for spending my salary on stuff that I’m supposed to put in my arse!”

“Oh come off it! I spend nearly the whole afternoon just trying to find a cock-ring your size. You could at least recognise the effort I put into it!”

“Oh yeah? Well, good job then!” John walked closer to the table, leaning himself forward on it while breathing steadily.

“And for that matter, it wasn’t your salary which paid for the toys, of course I used Mycroft’s credit card, don’t be daft.” Once again Sherlock looked through his microscope, acting like the conversation was finished and the trouble dealt with.

“This is not happening.” John dropped the beads on the table before them and then straightened up and – just like every other time they had been in a conflict – he did what he did best: left the room with all of his dignity that he had left.

Sherlock looked up startled when the door to his bedroom – _their_ bedroom, or at least he hoped that was still the case – was shut. His eyes then traced to the set of beads. He lifted them up in his hand, while coming to a realisation. Perhaps John thought they were supposed to be for him as in _in_ him, which really hadn’t been Sherlock’s idea at all. His intentions had been to give them to the doctor for him to use on Sherlock, as much as he wanted and in every possible way he found interesting. It was supposed to be like an experiment – something for both of them to enjoy. He got out of his chair and walked to the door and was just about to reach out for the handle to step inside when John opened it before him. “John, I…”

“Sherlock, let me speak.” John sighted. “We will keep the toys.” He cleared his throat. “But next time… next time you will _not_ buy them with your brother’s credit card. And you will speak to me on beforehand. If you do that we could order them online and in that way we could both do some research to see what to buy. And Sherlock, dildo’s a no-no! Is that clear?”

“Yes.” Carefully Sherlock stepped closer.

“Good, that’s good.” He looked up at his lover and reached out to give him a small peck. While keeping his lips on Sherlock, John sighted once again. “I’m not just there yet, Sherlock. I will try to do this, I will, but you have to understand that this is all pretty new to me too. I admit I had my fair share in uni, but much have changed since then. I’m an old man now and I assure you that although having been married to an assassin should’ve added some thrills we never did anything out of the usual in bed. We’ll have to take this step by step, figure it all out together. Could you do that for me?” John looked up into his eyes.

“Yes John.” Sherlock leaned down and they met in a kiss. It wasn’t passionate or even very sexy, but it was them. This would have to do for some time yet, maybe John wouldn’t actually grow bored as soon as Sherlock had thought…

_To be continued~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time it's John's turn to try to add some spice, but as you probably noticed; things will continue to fail for yet some chapters. Stay put for more awkwardness~


	3. Well-Fed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries his best to help out with the spicing, but no matter his efforts it ends up in a failure.

Two nights and two days had gone by since the toy-incident. John hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that Sherlock clearly wanted something more out of their relationship than what he’d given him up until now. Of course he wanted to be as interesting and experimental as Sherlock wished him to be, but he couldn’t really get himself to be all that adventurous just yet. Not when the thought of being with Sherlock altogether still felt like an entirely new thing in itself. He really wasn’t that keen on going deeper into the whole kink-thing no matter what, but it felt way too early to say that out loud to Sherlock. If he just could come up with something sexy and exciting that would keep Sherlock attentive, but also something that was nice enough for John to want it too… It wasn’t until John was in the bathroom that night, doing his business, that he came to think of something which would fit them perfectly. Food sex. It was perfect! All he had to do was to buy something sweet and sticky, something that could easily be smeared down his lover’s torso and licked up without any of them feeling squeamish about it. When thinking about what kind of eatable things that could be, John couldn’t help but smiling. This was almost too easy, both of them being sweet teeth and all.

* * *

It was afternoon the following day and John and Sherlock sat on the sofa, snogging. It had begun with Sherlock getting a massage, but quite quickly the massage had escalated into some heated kissing – as always between those two. Sherlock was just about to back off in order to remove John’s shirt when the doctor stopped him.

“Wait, I’ve something special for us in mind today.” John smiled cheekily and got up from the sofa. Sherlock was soon to follow suit, keeping himself as close to the ex-soldier as possible. “Go lie on the bed, I’ll be there in a sec.” Sherlock actually looked intrigued by this and eagerly did as he was told. When John was sure that Sherlock was out of view he went to the kitchen to pick up the ‘ingredients’. Chocolate sauce, strawberry jam, whipped cream and honey, lots of honey. John was all about the first two, but the cream was mainly for Sherlock. He needed the extra-calories. John didn’t put it on a tray or anything, they still lived as if they were bachelors after all. When he pushed the door open with his back the first thing which met his eyes was Sherlock on the bed (their bed, _their_ bed!), lying there in just his pants. The detective smiled smugly when he noticed what John was carrying and if that didn’t showed his approval the wiggling of his toes sure did. John would be sure to dip them all in jam later on, just to have the luxury of sucking it off, one toe at a time.

“Are you going to turn me into dessert?”

“Indeed I am.” John dropped the things on the bed and leaned down to kiss him. While continuing to snog, he removed every bit of clothing that was still covering the detective. It was just down to minutes before both of them would be naked and covered in sugar anyway. He sat down on the bed, his thighs on either side of Sherlock’s hips. “I thought we could try this out.” John smiled. “I know you’ve wanted to add some flavour to our sex life, so I thought ‘why not take it literary?’”

“How clever of you.” Sherlock was mocking him, but not harshly or sarcastically. He actually seemed genuinely pleased with the idea. Although, how could he not be? John had never met anyone who’d eat Nutella out of the jar before. (Not a grown man at least.) He took the bowl with whipped cream and placed it next to Sherlock’s head. He then dipped his index finger and held it to Sherlock’s mouth.

“Open up.” While still looking at John, Sherlock slowly opened his mouth and licked the cream off John’s finger. This was then repeated a couple of times until a considered amount of cream had disappeared from the bowl. After giving Sherlock some chocolate sauce right out the tube he kissed his lover, savouring the sweet taste. “Ready for some honey, honey?”

“Don’t make silly puns, John. It spoils it.” John just giggled and reached for the jar. He had even brought a proper honey dipper with him, it felt suitable for the occasion. Carefully he let the nectar curl down on Sherlock’s pectorals and up over his mouth and left cheek. It all was rather sexy, up until there was something wild in Sherlock’s eyes which made the doctor freeze. His lover had two kinds of wild looks; one for thrilling cases and passionate sex and one for ‘I-am-just-about-to-panic-for-Gods-sake-do-something-NOW’ scenarios. Unfortunately this no doubt belonged to the latter. “Did you just put honey in my hair?” John was trying to stay as calm as possible. “John, did you just put honey IN MY HAIR?” Sherlock was now sort of yelling, sort of cursing at him. “You _idiot_!”

“Hey, come on!” He moved so he wasn’t above Sherlock. “That isn’t fair. It’s just a bit of honey, I can rinse it out later.”

“I washed it today!”

“So what?”

“I never wash it more than twice a week, as you are well aware of!”

“Why should I know of your vain OCD habits!” That was definitely not what he should’ve said. Sherlock rushed out, stark naked, of the bed and seconds later, John could hear him slam the bathroom door closed. John just fell to the bed, sighing. He hadn’t even gotten Sherlock’s pants off.

_To be continued~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week it'll be all Sherlock once again. I hope you bear with them, I can assure you they'll actually get to do some proper shagging in the end!


	4. Well-Suited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John get paid a visit and it's all like some kind of bad horror film really.

Tonight they had it all figured out. They hadn’t had sex in some days, which was long for them to keep their hands off each other, so John had been more than excited when Sherlock had suggested that it was time for some mind-blowingly steamy lovemaking. (Yeah, he knew it sounded silly, but that was exactly what John had in mind: making love to the world’s most beautiful detective and letting it last for hours.) Sherlock had told him to go and lie down on the bed and wait for him and John didn’t need Sherlock’s deduction skills to know that he was probably making himself dashing for his doctor to enjoy, since six whole minutes had passed and he was still in the bathroom. Eight minutes had went by when he heard his lover’s voice outside the bedroom door.

“Close your eyes.” John did as he was told, feeling the anticipation making goose bumps on his skin. If John had known better he would’ve been warned by the squeaking sound that there was something fishy about this. Unfortunately, the good doctor was too eager on the idea of finally fucking his boyfriend that he simply didn’t listen.

“Sherlock? Can I open my eyes?” No answer. “Sher…?” What met John’s eyes made him act purely on instinct. In less than four seconds Sherlock was on the floor, desperately covering his private parts while trying his best not to throw up. John was on the other side of the bed, hyperventilating and looking like he was somewhere near fainting. Just like after a terrible nightmare he slowly got himself up in a sitting position, resting his upper body against the mattress and burying his head in his hands. It was hard to breathe properly, but he did his best counting to five throughout every exhalation. While John was caught up in himself, the detective was slowly making his way to his lover in order to comfort. Crawling was hard when every move made him feel like his testicles where on their way to fall off, but after quite a struggle he was able to reach John’s shoulder, which he squeezed gently. He would’ve said something if it wasn’t for the pain, but the only sound he got through was a kind of hissing noise. This made the doctor look up. What met his eyes was nothing but terror. Beside him was a tall man, half curled up, but with his hand still on John’s shoulder. He was all dressed up in a latex gimp suit, his face covered in a mask which didn’t even showed his eyes. If he only could’ve seen the eyes! Whatever John did, he couldn’t look at Sherlock. Not when he was deformed in that way. Not his Sherlock, not his beautiful, amazing, blazingly intelligent Sherlock! The detective must’ve seen the distress in John’s eyes because he quickly threw his mask off, letting those thick curls toss around him freely like some sort of halo. (How did he even fit them in there to begin with?)

“I see that this made you upset.” He backed away a couple of inches to give the shorter man some space. “I had no idea you would react like this.”

“YOU IDIOT!” John spat the words right at him. “WALKING IN LIKE THAT, IN HERE, WITH ME ON MY BACK, EYES CLOSED!” He pushed himself further away. “LIKE SOME KIND OF KINKY VERSION OF SLENDERMAN READY TO FUCK ME DRY!”

“Slender-who?”

“SHUT UP!!!” John took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea whatsoever what you look like in that? You could be something right out of some fucking case of yours!”

“Oh come on John, it’s only a gimp suit, it hardly makes me into a psychotic murderer.”

“Shut it!” John got to his feet. “Just… just keep quiet, I…” John looked almost nauseous. “Don’t come after me!” He ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Sherlock threw himself backwards, landing on the floor. Why did every time they tried to have sex always ended up with one of them locking himself up inside the bathroom?

_To be continued~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify: this is all my interpretation of what would happen if Johnlock got involved with something like this. That is, I haven't paid the slightest attention to the politics of it all. Thus, this is not in anyway meant to be shaming on the use of gimp suits or something equally ignorant. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading, only one more failure to go~ :)


	5. Sex Taped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were going so well, it was all so perfect! John was so terribly, terribly close, but...!

While John’s left arm was holding him in a kind of upright position against the bed, his right was steading Sherlock, who was currently above him, moving way too slow for John’s liking. He reached up and sniffed in the detective’s armpit. He smelled of some ridiculously expensive deodorant and sex. John tried to increase the speed, but Sherlock wouldn’t have it. The doctor could feel the sweat on his back, he really wasn’t made for this kind of position, not at his age. He looked up to meet the other man’s eyes, but Sherlock was currently leaning his head backwards, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. John let go of his lover’s back and took a firm grip of his hips instead, a move which made the doctor slide down against the bed. This change of position made both of them grunt.

“John!” Sherlock’s eyes had flown open and he was staring down at the man beneath him, his head buzzing with endorphins. Once again John did his best to increase their speed and fortunately, this time Sherlock followed suit. There would be marks on Sherlock’s hips later on, but right now John couldn’t care less. John was almost considering hitting Sherlock when the younger man suddenly stopped moving. “Ch… Change positions.” He breathed heavily.

“W-what?” It took every fibre of John’s self-control to actually hold still. “ _Now_?!” If he would’ve known the agony of sleeping with Sherlock he wasn’t sure he would’ve… heck, who was he trying to fool anyway?

“Yes, **now** John!” Sherlock had already moved off him and a part of John’s soul had gone with him. “Come on, move already! Take me from behind.” The detective was trying to push John in order to make room. John was never the one with a weak spot for having someone on their hands and knees, but to be honest it didn’t really matter at the moment. He would gladly hump him upside down if that was what Sherlock wanted, just as long as he could get off in approximately five to seven minutes. (Sherlock’s deduction, John had stopped thinking by now.)

Finally John once again hit home. Since he now was the one in charge, he started shagging like his life depended on it. He made sure to hit Sherlock’s sweet spot for every jerk. Meanwhile, the detective held his face hidden, but John didn’t need to see his expression in order to know the state of his lover.

He was just about to warn Sherlock that he was about to come any minute now, when the other man did the most horrible thing; he turned around and looked behind him. Not on John, absolutely fucking not on John who was currently buried so deep inside him that he practically had forgotten his own name. Not on John, who had done so much for him for so many years. Not on John, who would kill for him, die for him, even consider trying out that dildo that Sherlock had bought all those weeks ago and that still hadn’t gotten out of Johns mind. No, he didn’t look at John. What the detective’s icy blue eyes was in search for was something entirely different, namely his iPhone which was set on the nightstand next to the bed. It had been taping the last twenty two minutes and all Sherlock wanted to do was to make sure it was still recording.

It was like if the world had shut down. John wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even upset. He sat down on his calves, his cock falling out with a small ‘pop’. It was like staring into a dark abyss, all black and all completely pointless. The doctor took a deep sigh and looked down on himself with a blank expression. He didn’t even worried about blue balls anymore, all he wanted was a cup of tea and a pair of unbelievably soft pyjama pants.

_To be continued~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John! This was the last one of the failures though, next week will be all sweet and fluffy so stay put for the wrap-up!


	6. Deliciously Dull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After five times of failure John and Sherlock finally get together. Maybe they shouldn't try to be all that new and exciting, not when their dull vanilla is already everything they could possibly dream of.

It was just an ordinary day. Nothing special about it what so ever. John sat down in his chair reading and Sherlock was in the kitchen, working on some experiment of his. The weather was typical for London in the beginning of December; all grey with a slight drizzle. When the clock struck half past four John put down his book, blinking away some of the tiredness that had sneaked upon him. Things had been good between them for the last weeks, although, he had to admit, there could’ve been some improvements on the romantic part. Sherlock hadn’t so much as kissed him since the incident with the sex tape. All John had gotten was the cherished small pecks that they’d shared whenever one of them came home from some errand or when saying goodnight. John had tried to engage his lover last night by kissing his neck and whispering all the sweet words that he could possibly think of that didn’t sound to corny (at least not to a sexually frustrated doctor at two am in the morning), but that had ended rather the opposite of what he’d had in mind.

_“John, stop it, you don’t need to. Just go to sleep, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow and I’ll clean the fridge, promise.”_ At first he’d found it quite sweet with Sherlock acting all guilty every time he’d gotten too close, but now it’d sort of started to worry him. Was the detective never to forget the whole sex-experiments escapade that they’d had going on for the last couple of weeks? John sure knew he was willing to put it all behind him if it meant them going back to their ordinary vanilla that they’d had before. For it couldn’t be that Sherlock really didn’t like it, could it? He couldn’t possibly be disappointed in John for the lack of trying, could he? He had to have known that John wasn’t all leather and latex to begin with, right? John cleared his throat for what must had been the thirtieth time that afternoon. He must’ve known from the start that John was nothing more than an ordinary man, well past his prime if you asked him. He must’ve at least deduced it. Carefully he looked behind him to cast a glance at his lover. Just that same second Sherlock looked up, but right when their eyes met, John once again turned his back. _You’re making a mountain out of a molehill here John Watson, be rational about this._ No matter how hard he’d tried to tell himself that – even since the start of the ‘let’s spice things up’ failure – John still felt that heavy feeling of not being good enough roaring in his gut.

Sherlock’s chair scraped to the floor and John could hear the sound of bare feet coming his way. He swallowed thickly, it was as if something was stuck in his throat, and made a small cough, not really wanting to look up. He was surprised that what he thought would be Sherlock telling him out loud every bit of nagging thought he’d had for the last days instead turned out to be something completely different; the detective reached down and kissed his forehead while seating himself on top of John, all in one swift motion. Before they had (finally!) admitted their feelings for each other, John would’ve thought it silly to have a six feet tall detective all snuggled up in his lap, now he couldn’t imagine life without it. Or unfortunately he very well could, it had been weeks since they’d last done this. John hadn’t dared to ask and Sherlock hadn’t seemed like he would’ve wanted to anyway. John lifted his arms, putting one up to support Sherlock’s back and letting the other fall down on his thighs. He squeezed him gently, afraid to seem too urgent. He reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ve missed this.” He closed his eyes and let himself just breath, sensing his lover’s cologne and something that smelled a bit acid. Sherlock bent down and met his lips. They sat there for a while, sharing small kisses. Once Sherlock let his eyelashes tickle John’s eyebrow, which made John giggle.

After what felt like way too short of a time Sherlock leaned backwards. John opened his eyes and he must’ve looked unwilling to let go for Sherlock immediately promised him it was just in order to change their position. He moved so that he was now sitting on his calves, each leg on each side of John’s. “This makes it so much easier.” Sherlock smiled. John let his hands run over Sherlock’s back, landing on his hips. They started kissing once again and the kisses soon turned into snogging. Sherlock had one hand behind the doctor’s head, while his other was holding a firm grip on his jaw, keeping him in place.

“Afraid of me moving?” John sniggered between their kisses.

“Should I be?”

“Not the slightest.” He leaned forward, forcing Sherlock to do the opposite. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. It feels like it has been ages.” It was hard to get the words out correctly, especially since Sherlock’s mouth was occupying John’s as their snogging grew more heated. Sherlock hips suddenly jolted forwards, which made them grunt in unison. John was soon to follow suit and after less than thirty seconds they were perfectly synced. For every rock forward their breaths grew a bit heavier. John let his head fall backwards on the chair, enjoying the sensation of Sherlock’s gluteus muscles work underneath his hands.

They didn’t stay that way for very long. Sherlock leaned down over John, keeping his arms on either side of his head. He kissed and nibbled his way down John’s face and neck, coming to rest on his shoulder. “I’ll remove this.” John smiled at the voice of his lover, there was nothing he found sexier than Sherlock’s baritone all flustered. When both of them were free of theirs shirts their mouths clashed together once again. It worked for some minutes, but after a while none of them could ignore the fact that Sherlock was showing goose bumps.

“Should we perhaps move this to somewhere warmer? Or at least get a fire going?” John let his hands run over Sherlock’s biceps, trying to give him some warmth. “Maybe we should postpone this to later on, you’re freezing.” A worried wrinkle was starting to show between the doctor’s eyebrows, something Sherlock was quick to notice. He got up from the chair and covered himself in the blanket that was tossed on the floor beside them. John was just about to get up and make tea when the detective pushed him back into sitting position.

“I’ll see to the fire, don’t move.” He would’ve insisted if it wasn’t for the fact that he had gotten rather hard during their snogging session and the thought of not getting off once again was more than he could handle at moment. Sherlock saw to the fire and as soon as a warm glow was starting to cover 221B he got back to John’s lap.

Once again John let his hands trace down Sherlock’s arms, careful to keep the blanket in place around him. “Getting warmer?”

“Soon.” Sherlock reached down and kissed the doctor’s cupid bow. They rocked back and forth while making sure their lips never stopped touching. It was almost like if Sherlock hesitated to reach out for his lovers fly, as if afraid of getting things going too quickly. John noticed this and took the matter in his own hands, doing his best to get both of their clothing out of their way.

It could’ve been due to the newly lit fire or simply a matter of attraction, but the low temperature was all forgotten. Sherlock had let the blanket fall to the floor, he didn’t want any other stimuli apart from John, and the other man didn’t seem to worry about the lack of cover. “I’ll never go as long without you again, never.”

“John, you’re repeating yourself.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Sherlock kissed John’s scar. “I’m sorry for being so obvious and boring.” That had come out more like a whisper and John had wished for it to go right past Sherlock as soon as he had spoken the words. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Instead Sherlock just grew still and looked down at him. If John just had dared to look back he would’ve seen the look of despair and misery.

“Shut it.” Finally John looked up. “Stop saying those things like you mean it, boring is not your predominant feature.” This time it was Sherlock who looked away. “Some things may be obvious, I grant you that, but you are never boring. I just thought you wanted to, it all seemed so obvious, that you… That you wanted more. I just tried to give you what you needed. I told you I wasn’t good at this John. I told you to stay away, to stay with Mary. I haven’t touched you for the last couple of weeks since I know it would only lead to disappointment on your behalf. One day you will grow tired of this. Of us. You were married to a woman and no matter what you tell yourself, we both know that being in a relationship with a sociopathic man wasn’t how you thought you’d spend your life.” John ignored that part, they both knew Sherlock was none of the sort. “I can’t become your wife and you have already stated far too many times that you’re in this because of the adrenaline. All I wanted was to keep things interesting, to keep you here yet a year. I should’ve known this wasn’t going to work, but I don’t see what you being boring got anything to do with it.”

John grew quiet. He could hear the clock tick, he could hear cars outside on the street and Mrs. Hudson slamming with the door after coming home from her grocery shopping. One deep breath, then an explanation.

“You got it all wrong.” His voice wasn’t as steady as he would’ve wished. Not as authoritative and controlled. “If I knew I would’ve told you. I thought I’d already made it clear: Mary is a finished chapter. It’s us now. You and me. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Not ever. If I could go back, turn back time, I would. I would go back to that first evening when we had dinner at Angelo’s while waiting for the cabbie to show. I would go back and I would’ve changed my answer. I would’ve spared us all these years of hesitation and agony. God knows I wish I could.” Their eyes met. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman or whatnot, not as long as we stay together.” John furiously blinked away the tear that was starting to form in his left eye. “Speak with me next time, yeah? Say something and we’ll figure it out together.” He smiled and to his joy it was returned. “Are we finished talking now?” John said to Sherlock’s throat.

“Yes.” Both of them sighted, relieved. John let his hips move slightly to add some friction and although Sherlock had grown limp during their conversation he seemed keen to continue what they’d started. They rocked their hips the opposite way to get as much contact as possible, but this time they wasn’t kissing. Instead they just looked at each other, both forgetting to blink. John could feel Sherlock starting to grow hard again, something that made his own blood go south as well.

“God, I’ll come like this if we continue.”

“What’s stopping you?” John grinned and pushed forward and that was all it took. Not having sex for weeks had its disadvantages when it came to endurance, but it was all fine. It took Sherlock yet some jerks and then there was mix of both of their sperm all over John’s stomach and Sherlock’s thighs.

“Next time, don’t let me go so long without you love, I don’t know if I could manage it once more.”

“Next time, don’t be such a bore and take me on the spot instead.” Sherlock sniggered.

They were finally back to their ordinary vanilla, but who would’ve known dull could be this delicious.

_The end~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. I seem to have a weak spot for fluffy declarations of love, sorry 'bout that~ x')


End file.
